Not the Same Duke Anymore
by Duck5R0ck
Summary: A little bit more mature look at the dynamics of the Mighty Ducks team: Duke l'Orange struggles to repair trust with his team after he went undercover as a thief to foil Falcone's plans to steal the world's largest jewels. But after meeting a oddly familiar human, he realizes that there is more strength within him than he ever thought possible. More to come; feel free to critique.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: How we got here

Duke l'Orange, the grey feathered, slender, and saber-wielding drake from the crime fighting, NHL hockey playing, universe-saving team that was known colloquially as the Mighty Ducks was slowly drifting off into an alcohol infused sleep. His last heist certainly took a toll on his nerves—to the point of needing to get away from his team and head to one of the local, underground night clubs. Thinking back on the last few hours, Duke let out a tremendous sigh and turned in his bunk only to remember that there was someone lying next to him: a human someone.

…..

Defeating the infamous jewel thief Falcone by making not only Falcone, but his own team, believe he had returned to a life of crime had yielded unexpected personal consequences. While the charade had been a calculated and successful ruse, Duke felt something changing deep within himself and within the team. Throughout those harrowing hours of thievery, his friends didn't trust him despite his sworn loyalty in the past. In front of Canard and the whole resistance, he placed his saber upon Drake DuCaine's golden mask and swore an oath of fealty to Canard, to the cause, to the resistance, and vowed to leave his jewel thieving escapades behind for good. What more could he have done? When Canard broke into Puckworld's high security prison searching for Duke to join the resistance, Duke had been locked in a cell for three days without food or water—the guards all having fled for fear of Lord Dragaunus's goons. He remembered the puck blast breaking down the cell door, falling backwards, then seeing Canard's stern, but friendly expression as he extended a hand outwards for Duke to take. Duke shielded his one good from the light of the outside world, the other eye having long been blinded by a heist gone sour. The guards had taken his mechanized eye-patch, saying prisoners like him didn't need to see their world in great detail anymore.

"Duke l'Orange, Puckworld's most notorious jewel thief and leader of the Brotherhood of the Blade. I came to break you out of here and ask you to join the resistance. Should you choose not to, I will be forced to leave you here to serve out your offenses against Puckworld or worse, for you to endure whatever Dragaunus has in store. Just say yes, friend," said Canard as he wrapped an arm around the weakened Duke to help him off the floor.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Just get me out of here," Duke wheezed, his beak parched and his belly tight from not having eaten. Canard had to drag the dirty, grey drake from his cell and out into the open air of the prison's hallway.

But before Canard could get Duke all the way out, Duke stretched out a hand and held himself in place.

"Wait, I need something to cover my eye with," he whispered.

"We don't have time," replied Canard.

"I don't want them to see me like this, weak and wounded as I am. Being a blind thief makes it all the more worse," he said.

"Okay," replied Canard reluctantly, and he ripped off a piece of black cloth from his shirt and helped Duke tie it around his eye. "Is that better?"

"Yeah, thanks Canard," said Duke, and he collapsed in Canard's arms.

Thinking back on that fateful day, Duke slowly wrapped himself around the human next to him, careful not to wake her.

He nuzzled his beak into her hair and sighed one last time, asking into the night, "How did we get here, sweetheart?" before he dozed off into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: That Duke is Gone

The next morning, Duke woke his human companion up before dawn and before the others were awake. He rushed her out of the secret, underground compound built beneath the hockey rink of the Anaheim stadium. Before she left into the morning light of a gorgeous and sunny California day, she stopped and gave him a quick kiss on his beak then ran to her car hoping to avoid a ticket for having parked in a no parking zone the night before. Duke chuckled as he watched her leave, and then made his way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and a piece of toast before the others rose for the day. Smirking silently to himself, he proudly mused over the fact that he managed not to trigger any of the alarms both when he brought her back to his quarters in the secret layer and when he snuck her out. The ducks would never know she was here.

While he methodically stirred the cream into his coffee, Duke thought about his new human friend. She was the one lifeform that was slowly bringing him out of his delusions of being mistrusted by his team. She was positive, offered advice, and was very attractive: for a human, that is.

Throughout the past few days, the team was acting very…aloof. Customarily, Mallory and Tanya rarely spoke to him, while Grin was always quiet. Wildwing, of course, greeted everyone with the same level of respect, but it was Nosedive whom Duke really enjoyed talking to. However, even he didn't invite Duke to the Anaheim Mall like he normally did at least once every two days. Duke had always thought of Nosedive as a true little brother, maybe even a son. And though Nosedive seemingly didn't give into the teams' suspicions of Duke's betrayal, Duke had locked him and Tanya in an air-tight vault for three hours with no communication. He felt awful about it but knew if there was anyone that could get Nosedive out of there, it was Tanya. However, he miscalculated and the team narrowly rushed in to save them before the air ran out.

Duke stared blankly into his coffee but couldn't bring himself to take a sip. He had let a lot of people down in his life. Nosedive, his team, Canard, and even his own son back on Puckworld. Getting caught during a heist and being thrown into prison only to discover days later that Puckworld was under attack by the Saurian Empire had thrown Duke into a rage. He yelled for hours in his cell for any news about his son, but to no avail. The guards simply hit his cell door with their batons repeatedly until his ears pounded in agony and he was forced to curl up on the floor, covering his ears from the pain. After Canard broke him out, Duke tried to track down his son but there was no trace of his him. As days turned into weeks of bombing, raids, and finally, the slave trading, he knew it was time to move on, not only for his sake, but for the mission's, as well.

Being the eldest member of the team, Duke never sought any one of them to discuss his son. Only Canard knew of his little Liam and the secret died with him. Now, Duke could only hold on to the hope that the Brotherhood of the Blade had kept Liam safe. But seeing Falcone again and knowing he had betrayed the Brotherhood to join with Dragaunus threw Duke into a spiraling depression.

 _But that is a totally different dimension, Duke. A different time—a different me. That Duke doesn't exist anymore, nor will he ever again._

Suddenly, Duke was shaken out of his thoughts by Nosedive crashing into the kitchen with Grin.

"Yeah, yeah, I still don't think that's how the episode should have ended, big guy…" said Nosedive.

"Ah, my little friend, you are forgetting the…" began Grin, but he abruptly stopped mid-sentence to stare at Duke. Nosedive also turned to look at Duke sitting at the counter next to the coffee pot.

"Hey, fellas, I was just leaving," said Duke as he got up from the stool and grabbed his coffee mug.

"Nah, bro, it's cool. You can stay," said Nosedive with enthusiasm.

"I should really be going…out," replied Duke. And with that, he walked out of the kitchen. As he walked down the hallway back to his quarters to get ready for the day, he passed Wildwing on his way to breakfast with the others.

"Hey, Duke, are you doing alright?" Wildwing asked.

"I'm fine. Just up a little early, that's all," he said.

"Well, if you need to talk…" said Wildwing.

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind," Duke snapped as he pounded on the button to open the mechanical doors to his quarters.

In his quarters, Duke ran a cold, long shower to help calm him down but when he got out of the shower and looked at himself in the mirror, his frustration returned immediately. His hair had been turning ever more grey-white and was thinning. Back on Puckworld, grooming supplies had been readily available at any store, but here on earth, the ducks were forced to frequent pet stores for their feather products, much to everyone's amusement. The team had decided to take turns running to and from the pet store so that each would have to endure the stares and chuckles less frequently, but every trip was torture for the grey drake. He despised being different not only from his team, but also from the humans. Duke preened himself the best he could, styling his hair in its customary bushy, but flowing fashion above his head. Then he looked at the chip in his beak, a sign of poor health and lower status on Puckworld. When a duck chipped his beak, his parents would pay to have it repaired. But Duke never had that luxury as a merchant mallard on the streets. A rival gang of thieves picked him up by his long hair and punched him square in the beak. The damage was far worse back then than it was now, having saved the money from months of robberies to have it fixed when he was older, but doctors couldn't completely buff out the chip.

 _You certainly are one disheveled avian alien,_ thought Duke. _Maybe to some extent, that Duke still exists through all these scars. My beak, my eye, my thinning feathers, my age…_

 _*Sigh. Well, at least she doesn't care about all that. She loves me because I am who I am. And that should be good enough for me…at least, good enough to get me through another day._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Setting His Gaze

Wildwing never did press Duke any more as to where he was the night a prized ruby was stolen by Falcone. And that was just fine with Duke—he wasn't ready to tell his team, anyways. Ever since he had wielded the Star Sword to defeat Asteroth once and for all, an unexplainable darkness began to consume Duke's mind. He was having nightmares about falling off of the red dragon; being run through by his own saber; and also, visions of his son, Liam, in the Dark World of Asteroth's realm. He wasn't trying to give any credence to his dreams or visions, but they were truly getting to him. Finally, Duke decided to head to one of his favorite local bars on that fateful night of the robbery.

Duke's stand-by bar, aptly named The Ugly Duckling, was on the city's Westside, where the streets and clubs were always full of artists, motely musicians, and wannabe Hollywood actors. In a sense, these humans reminded Duke of the type that where bound to the Brotherhood of the Blade—outcasts, rejects, rebels—but visionaries all the same. Besides, in this part of town, a grey mallard could blend in surprising well compared to some of the human lifeforms roaming Anaheim's streets at night.

Surely, Duke did feel comfortable among fellow outcasts; however, he also knew that these types of humans were disposed to notions of government conspiracy, mystics, and of course, alien sightings. These credulous folk often gave Duke decent insights into strange occurrences that might be linked to Dragaunus's whereabouts. Unfortunately, it was sometimes difficult to distinguish between actual sightings from alcohol or drug induced hallucinatory rants.

When Duke approached the Ugly Duckling Bar and Disco, he looked up dejectedly at the fading, but flashing neon signage. Running his fingers through his bushy hair one last time, he glanced at the bouncer who nodded once and stepped aside to allow Duke to pass. Once inside, the first thing he noticed was the grinding and screeching techno music. Its off beats and sharp, out of place notes made his highly sensitive ears ring and ache. However, Duke knew with a couple of bourbons in his belly, the music would slowly fade into the background of his mind and he could start to listen in on night's eccentric conversations.

At the bar, Duke asked for his usual bourbon neat and began to watch the despondent crowd swaying with hypnotic fashion in what appeared to be dance-like motions. He had to smirk, for back on Puckworld, the ducks there _really_ knew how to dance. Entire nights at the clubs would be spent in dance competitions—the last one still standing would win a grand prize.

As Duke watched on, a young woman approached the bar next to him dressed in a Rolling Stones t-shirt and a heavy, kilt-like skirt. She had big, black, heavy boots on and ripped tights that revealed elegant, flowery tattoos through the holes. Her hair was long and black, flowing all the way down to the small of her back and her eyebrows were bushy and un-plucked. Her cheeks were full of freckles and her lips were painted the darkest shade of cheap red lipstick one could buy at a Walgreens. She looked over at Duke and managed a whole-hearted smile that exposed big, bright teeth.

He raised his glass of bourbon back in greeting and muttered a, "Hello, sweetheart."

"Hey," she replied.

"You new here?" he asked.

"Yeah, just moved here from the Midwest," she said.

"Ah, farm girl, eh?"

"No! I just graduated from art school! I'm a contract artist at the amusement park across the freeway," the girl shouted over the loud, out-of-tune music.

"I'm a bit of an art critic and collector myself," Duke said.

"Cool," was all she managed to say before the bar tender handed her a drink and she began to dig through her pockets for money to pay with.

"Nah, sweetheart, allow me," Duke said, looking up at the bar tender and nodding. The bar tender also nodded back and walked away.

"You didn't have to do that," the gothic little human said.

"Yeah, well, I thought it would be nice, since you smiled and all."

The girl smirked and took a sip of her drink and then yelled, "So! An outer-space, hockey-playing duck?!"

"That's me! Duke l'Orange, at your service!" Duke screamed back.

"I'm not used to bars this loud!" she said.

"Welcome to California, angel!" Duke pointed to the back of the bar and asked, "You want to get a table in the back? It's a little quieter over there!"

"Sure!" she said, and took another sip of her drink before they got up from the bar and began to make their way through the maze of slow moving, methodic punks. Once they made it to the back, Duke set his drink on the table and pulled out a chair for the girl to sit in. She smiled that toothy grin and sat-her back straight as a rail as Duke pushed the chair in from behind. He then sat across from her and looked out one last time at the crowd before settling his gaze on her with his one good eye.

 ** _I hope the, like 2 people, following this like it! More to come!_**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Out of Control

"So, eh, I don't usually talk to humans like this," started Duke uneasily.

"I don't usually talk to alien ducks, but I do talk to anthropomorphized ducks in costume," she smiled back devilishly. Then she took another sip of her drink and spoke up, "Carmel, my name is Carmel."

"Like the town in California?"

"Yeah, my parents were originally from here and clearly couldn't get California off their minds."

"It is a beautiful planet," Duke admitted.

"What must earth be like for you? I can't imagine you and your team are settling in to our human culture all that readily," she said with a raspy voice, still trying to shout over the hypnotic music.

Duke sighed and explained, "You're sure right about that, sweetheart. I mean, some of us are better off than others. For instance, Nosedive loves it here, with the teen scene and all that. And Tanya is fascinated by human technology. But for the most part, we all want to go home."

"I can understand. I never really fit in out in farm country, but moving here, I immediately felt more at home. And now, I never want to go back to Minnesota. Besides, this scene is where it's at. You would never find a place like this in the Midwest." Carmel looked down into her drink, remembering with bitterness the staunch, upright morals that governed her previous home.

"Eh, I do come here to escape. However, I like to listen in to the conspiracies, the sightings, and the overall weird stories these humans conjure. They might lead me to Lord Dragoness's antics," Duke replied, taking a quick sip of his bourbon.

"You seem very passionate about your work," Carmel said.

"Eh, again, it's just to go home," he shrugged.

"You care very deeply about your team. You know, meeting someone as chivalrous and kind as you in California has been a surprise. People here are very self-absorbed and I'm glad the high life hasn't gotten to you yet," she said, pointing long, curving index finger at Duke.

"Only on the outside. Deep down, they all just want a drink in a quiet corner and a chat with a friend," Duke smiled, raising his glass.

"How truly uncorrupted of you."

"I'm a peasant at heart."

"I think you mean a pheasant at heart?" Carmel said, leaning in with a smirk.

"Watch yourself, sweetheart, my mother was half pheasant!"

Duke and Carmel both chuckled a bit and then simultaneously downed the last dregs of their drinks. Duke then looked up at the dark, young woman across from him and began to feel some semblance of calming warmth within him. It was an oddly familiar warmth—far reaching and certainly powerful. It sparked a vigor that coursed through his mind, melting the dark tremors that were constantly barraging his thoughts. This feeling of fortitude, of tenacity was the same feeling Duke felt when he swung on a cable, narrowly dodging motion-detecting rays to snatch up treasure. It was the same feeling he had when he gracefully discharged an opponent with his duck saber. It was the same feeling as when he brought home a feast for the Brotherhood. And yet, there was something even far more reaching—far more magical—to the feeling. He just couldn't place it.

Slowly, Duke reached across the table, aiming to caress Carmel's hand. But the moment his fingertips brushed up against hers, Duke was sent through a reeling journey in his mind. Images of the resistance, prison, Canard, his son in chains at auction, Duke falling from Red Dragon, and finally, himself wielding the Star Sword crashed into his vision. Carmel and the bar disappeared from view as he was forced to endure all manner of spiraling and suffocating memories—some good—others sinister and vile. They were colorful, dull, bizarre, beautiful, somber, joyful, and repugnant all the same time. The emotional journey was becoming too great. Finally, in the midst of the chaotic visions, the Star Sword appeared clearer than any other image. Duke let out an exasperated screamed and reached for it, tightly holding its jewel-laden handle. The visions came crashing down as suddenly as they had started and Duke found himself yelling and standing up at the table—Carmel staring up at him in distress. The music scene and not died down and the only human paying attention to his chimeric antics was his new friend.

"Carmel, did…did you…s-s-see that?" Duke panted, placing both hands on the table and slumping over, his head hanging low and his long hair brushing against the rims of their empty glasses.

"See what?" she asked, fearfully answering, her eyes wide with worry.

"Those…visions," he heaved breathlessly.

"No, no of course not," she yelled over the gothic tones of the night.

"I, I need to go," he said.

"Yeah, I guess you should," she said, still uneasy about what had just occurred. Without another glance at Carmel, Duke stormed out of the bar and out into the heavily humid and dark Anaheim night.

 _That was…awful. I'm going to be sick. What was that? Magic, Dragoness? Or something else? I'm losing my mind. I am out of control._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Star Sword

Duke walked hurriedly back to the pond, not bothering to wrap up in his long, black trench coat to keep the cold morning rain from seeping into his feathers. His heavy boots clomped determinedly along the sidewalk and occasionally sunk into a particularly deep puddle. Duke, resembling most closely an earth species called a Madagascar Teal, happened to grow up on the warmer side of Puckworld. Reflecting back on his childhood, he recalled how it rained there far more than it snowed and was overcast much of the year. The darkness made for a sturdier, more steadfast duck culture—prone to stoic and detached emotions. However, Duke never fit into that category. He loved poetry, the arts, and tales of the daring adventures of Drake DuCaine. He was inclined to long walks in the night, running about in the rain, and day dreaming of being a hero of Puckworld one day. His dreams of being a daring-do-gooder always got him in trouble with the other thieves, like his rival, Falcone.

However, on this night, he took no pleasure in the misty air and soft, Romantic rumbles of thunder in the distance. Instead, he allowed the rain to depressingly trickle down his beak and soak into his shoulders.

 _What is happening to me?_ he thought. _Those strange visions were more than just images wrought by stress. And the Star Sword…it was somehow at the center of them all. But how? I've got to go home and check on that Sword. Maybe it's trying to tell me something? Send me a message?_

Duke also thought about his new acquaintance and how when he even slightly brushed against her fingertips, those images swelled in his mind. He wondered—briefly—if she had any connection to the barrage of mirages, but quickly shifted his focus to the embarrassing scene he had caused back in the bar.

 _Oh, Carmel! What a fool I've made of myself! How will I ever find her again? Well, after that fiasco, she probably will never want to see me again._

He signed longingly into the night and massaged his aching forehead with the palm of his hand, lumbering on in the soft rain until finally, he arrived at the arena. He carded in the side door and walked down the cold, concrete stadium hallways until he reached the location of the pond's secret elevator. Again, Duke used a hidden keypad located on the side of the elegantly concealed elevator doors and waited for the lift to reach him. When it arrived, the doors speedily whooshed open and he stepped in, finally noticing how drenched he was. As he rode down to the underbelly of the pond, he shook out his long hair and peeled off his soaked trench coat. Finally, the elevator doors swished open again and he stepped out into the living quarters of their secret hideout.

Duke looked down at his watch. 4:30am. He knew at least Wildwing would be up soon. He had about a half hour to examine the Star Sword before he was discovered—that is, assuming Tanya's alarm system didn't trigger before he could look at it.

As he approached the dimly lit, three-story-tall room that contained the super computer, Drake One, he felt a sudden pang of guilt. Sure, he was just going to peak at the Star Sword, but not telling his teammates about what he experienced or why he needed to sneak in to Drake One's room was not normally is style. If one of his teammates had experienced similar visions, he would want to know about them and help. However, headstrong Duke felt that this time, he needed to complete this mission alone. There as something deeper to this mystery that only he could understand—eventually.

As he walked up the steep stairs to reach the platform that held the computer's elaborately complicated buttons and control mechanisms, he felt his heart pound unexpectedly nervously. Once on the platform, he placed his ear to the floor and began running his forefinger along the lines of the surface. He was looking for the top of the concealed safe containing all of the Mighty Duck's "souvenirs" from all their earthly adventures. Finally, Duke found the groves in the flooring he was looking for and without wasting further time, he stood up and centered his weight on the tile he had just traced with his finger. He then lightly bounced up and down three times, gently dislodging the spring mechanism that allowed the safe to rise from the flooring. Just as he calculated, the buried safe lifted from the floor and displayed all of the rare objects he and his team had collected in the course of a year on earth.

There was the time traveling orb that Dragoness had used to send them forward in time, just to get rid of them so he could conquer the earth in their time! Then, there was Brawn's head. Luckily, he was fast asleep and snoring. Duke smiled a bit, remembering how huge and formidable the bounty-hunting robot had been when his head was still attached to his deadly body. Now, he looked as harmless as a sleeping child. Then, there was the Star Sword, as untouched as when he had first placed it in the safe. Duke slowly reached out to touch the handle of the sword, and just like when he touched Carmel, an image surfaced in his mind. Like a jolt of electricity, it shocked the grey duck to see Falcone, his most formidable rival in the Brotherhood of the Blade. He was laughing cockily, as if he had already won something. He also saw himself behind Falcone, leaning against a wall in his old thief's clothes and dawned in all of his best thief's gadgets. And Carmel was there too, shaking her head as if in disgust.

 _Where are we? What time is this? What am I doing over there when I know I am clearly standing on Drake One's platform?_

And as suddenly as the pictures zapped into his mind, the visions drained away. More fleeting and confusing than the barrage of images he experienced at the bar.

Duke quickly released the handle of the Star Sword and stepped back, holding his head in his hands. He shook his head violently, trying to come back to what he knew to be the real world. Then he looked up at the safe full of treasures and realized he had to push it back into the floor before he triggered any unknown alarms. The slender drake took a few steps back, then ran up to the safe, jumped on the top shelf and used his full weight to push the safe back into the floor. With some mechanical resistance, the safe eventually sunk into the floor and out of sight, its top self once again becoming a tile on the floor of the platform.

Duke quickly ran to his chambers, just wanting to get away from the world outside of his doors. He violently threw his damp trench coat onto the floor, tore off his soaked, black clothes and dawned a fresh pair of soft, black boxers. He then flung himself onto the inviting and clean sheets of his bed and nuzzled his beak into the soft pillows.

Before he could begin to reflect on the absurdity of his day, the duck drifted into a dreamless sleep, only making an involuntary quacking noise as he snored restlessly into what remained of the night.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Falcone

The next morning, Duke woke up to a knock on his door followed by a familiar voice through the intercom. "Duke, babe, you got practice in ten minutes! Chop chop. Time is money!"

"Yeah, yeah, Phil, I'm up, I'm up," replied Duke groggily. He lethargically rose from his bed and made his way to the bathroom. Picking up one of his many expensive hair brushes and picks, he quickly combed his through his long hair, enough to make it look like he hadn't just risen from bed. Then, he put on some sweatpants and a shirt and made his way to the locker rooms above their secret layer. When Duke walked in to the locker room, he found the rest of his teammates already assembling their hockey attire.

Wildwing was the first to look up at him and say, "Hey, Duke. Late night?"

"Yeah, just exploring the town in its after hours," he replied, clearing his raspy—still sleepy—voice.

"See anything exciting?" Nosedive asked while he was lacing up his skates on the bench in front of Duke.

"Nah, just the usual human nightlife."

"Come on guys, we are already late for practice. Let's hit the ice!" said a disgruntled Mallory.

"Ice waits for no man," Grin said, reciting one of the many quips he had learned during his time with Master Tea-Quack-do.

They all exited the locker room and out into the ice arena. Duke swiftly strapped on his hockey gear, then pulled on his uniform pants and jersey. Finally, he laced his skates in record time and was able to join in the game without them even noticing he wasn't there for the first few minutes.

The practice seemed a little more aggressive this morning; as if the jewel heist from the night before had put everyone on edge. Even bumbling Tanya managed to tag Nosedive against the boards. Duke, swift and cunning as ever managed to steal the puck away from Mallory, who glared at him from the sides of her helmet. He immediately wished he hadn't taken the puck. Up ahead was the goal and Wildwing was goalie for their teams of three-versus-three. He had the puck lined up, aimed, when, BAM! Out of nowhere, Mallory came up behind him and knocked the slender drake over with full force, stealing the puck and scoring a goal in Grin's net.

"Hey, hey, hey! Mallory, I like the enthusiasm, but I can't have you injure one of our best players before a big game!" Phil shouted from the grandstand seats.

"Well I'm sorry Phil, but I play to win!" Mallory shouted in Phil's direction, still skating in victorious figures of eight.

"It's fine, Phil, I'm sturdier than I look," Duke said, slowly picking himself off the ice. Nosedive skated over and put a gentle arm underneath Duke's to help balance him. "Thanks little, buddy."

"No problem, Dukes-ster," he replied and skated back to his starting position.

As the rest of the ducks lined up for the next play, Duke could see under Mallory's mask that she was agitated beyond her usual level of disgust. _Better stay clear of her on these next plays,_ he thought.

Mallory dropped the puck in the center and Nosedive managed to break it away, passing it to Duke. Duke skated toward Wildwing's goal with everything he had, his legs cramping and his feet pinching in his newer skates—curtesy of Phil and his sponsorships. Once he was within firing range, he noticed Tanya had managed to keep up with him and he wasn't able to break away for a clear shot. But wait, Nosedive was open!

"Dive!" Duke shouted and he passed the puck as accurately as he possibly could to Nosedive, just narrowly missing Tanya's stick. Nosedive lined up for the shot, blasted it away, and…no, didn't go in. Wildwing was just too good of a goalie. Nosedive let out a sign of disappointment, but before the team could discuss what they could have done better, Nosedive's wrist comm began to alarm.

"Mighty Ducks! We take a knockin' and keep rockin'. You've got the Dive Live!"

Duke rolled his eyes, but skated over to listen in. A picture of a disgruntled Captain Klegghorn appeared on Nosedive's comm. All the ducks leaned in for a closer look.

"It's Klegghorn. Remember that ruby the lizards tried to steal?"

"Yeah, yeah, so?" interrupted Nosedive.

"Someone stole it! Last night!"

"Ew, those creepa-sori didn't wait long to come back, did they?"

"Unless it wasn't the creepa-sori. YOU weren't here last night, _DUKE_!" said, Mallory, turning to face him and pointing her finger right in his face.

"Yeah, and neither was most of Anaheim. Are you going to accuse them too?" Duke sputtered.

"Hey, no one is accusing you of anything, okay?" interjected Wildwing, calm and collected as ever. "But, just for the record, where were you last night?"

"Out!" spat Duke in anger. He skated away, not wanting to even remotely endure anyone on his team. His embarrassment and frustration was beginning to reach a level he had never experienced with his team. There was nothing he could say or do to convince them that he had nothing to do with the jewel thefts. But, he also wasn't about to reveal where he was last night, either.

Later that evening Duke, Wildwing, Mallory, and Nosedive accompanied Klegghorn to the museum to inspect the scene of the robbery. Upon entering the disheveled room, Duke immediately noted how sloppy the heist had been. There was broken glass everywhere, and walls and tapestries torn to shreds, as if by claw marks—or a sharp blade.

"Definitely done by a blade," Wildwing proclaimed and he stood up from inspecting a door that was shredded to splinters.

"Like a sword," jabbed Mallory, turning to face Duke.

"Unbelievable," Duke murmured, stepping away from the others to examine the rest of the room. As he scanned for any trace of who or what could perform such a careless raid, his eye focused on a familiar feather underneath a display table. He leaned down on one knee and gently felt the beige, soft pin feather. There was no doubt about it: it belonged to Falcone. Duke stood up and pierced his saber through the feather and picked it up to show the others.

"I know who did this!" Duke said over the others who were discussing possible suspects. "I found this on the floor. It belongs to Falcone."

"Who?" asked Nosedive.

"He was in the Brotherhood of the Blade, the mob I ran back on Puckworld," Duke replied.

"Well, then how did he get here?" Mallory probed, more irritated now than she had been all day.

"Dragaunus must have brought him here!"

"Well, let's go get this bird!" Nosedive enthusiastically piped in.

"There's only one way to get to him," Duke mumbled, more to himself than to the rest of his teammates.

The ride back to the Pond in the migrator was very awkward. Everyone was silent. Nosedive didn't even dare to turn on the radio. Mallory, though driving, would occasionally glance back a Duke, as if to be sure he was still there. Once they were home, Mallory, Nosedive, and Wildwing all began to walk down the halls towards Drake One, but Duke decided to head back to his chambers.

"You're not coming?" Wildwing asked.

"Nah, I've got some thinking to do," Duke replied.

"Well, alright. But we need to talk strategy soon," Wildwing said, as he peeled off DuCiane's heavy golden mask from his face.

"I will, just give me a few moments."

Back in his chambers, Duke sat on his bed, his head resting in both his hands. Tilting his head from side-to-side as if he had a headache, he remembered how Falcone and Duke had first met many years ago, when Duke was barely older than a hatchling.

Contrary to popular belief, there were other avian aliens in the universe, and some did indeed live on Puckworld. However, it had always been a mystery as to how Falcone came to Puckworld. But as far as he could tell, Falcone was a young stowaway on a cargo ship from another avian-inhabited world. Duke never bothered to ask that fateful day he stumbled upon the sniveling, cowardly bird. Duke was playing street hockey with some of his fellow street-ducks when he heard some mysterious sobbing coming from a dark alleyway. He put down his stick and skated over to the sound to find a falcon-looking boy crouched underneath a cardboard box, crying and hungry.

"Hey, kid. What are you doing out here alone?" Duke asked. The bird looked up at Duke, but didn't respond. Instead, he continued to sob, louder than before, and shoved his face into his hands.

"Hey, hey, kid, I'm not here to hurt you. Why don't you come with me back to my place and we can find you some food? Would you like that?" Duke said as gently as possible. The little bird looked up at him and nodded pathetically. Duke held out his hand and helped up the little eyass.

 _He must be in some serious trouble, or maybe shock? Maybe his parents abandoned him, like mine?_ Duke thought to himself as they walked to the Brotherhood's secret layer in silence.

Through dark and narrow streets, the pair creeped hand-in hand. Duke occasionally would stop suddenly, look around, then and listen with his keen ears to make sure no one was following them. Finally, they arrived at a dilapidated, boarded up building that appeared to have no way in. Duke looked up and held out a hand to his new mate.

"You're going to have to trust me," Duke said quietly. The falcon did little more than nod quickly as he put his arm around the drake. Duke aimed his grappling hook at an open third floor window of the building and fired it effortlessly. He held on tighter to the falcon as they were swiftly lifted off the ground and to the window. Within seconds, they landed safely inside a dimly lit, small bedroom.

"Henna? Henna? I'm home and I've brought a new friend," cried Duke. Suddenly, the door to the room opened to reveal a scruffy looking crew of drakes of all different species. And in the middle of them, was their leader, Henna. She was a radiant duck, white as snow with black feathers painting her large, black eyes. Her beak was polished black and she had a ruby drilled into one of her nostril holes. She smiled gently when she saw Duke and the other bird.

"Why, what have we here?" she said softly. "A visitor? And…not a duck but a falcon? How quaint."

"Yes, Miss Henna. He was cold and hungry and alone. I thought maybe…" Duke sputtered. But before he could finish his sentence, Henna flashed an ignited duck saber and struck Duke in his right eye. The duckling screamed in agony as he crumpled to the ground and clutched at his bleeding eye.

"You fool! A non-duck? How are we supposed to hide him?" she yelled as she picked Duke off the ground by his jacket and held him up to her eye level. "He sticks out like a sore blood feather! How many ducks have already seen him? Where did he come from? Is he a spy? Does he belong to another mob? YOU DON'T KNOW!" Henna roared in the little, sobbing duck's face.

"I'm…I'm sorry Miss Henna. I didn't think…" cried Duke.

"Exactly, you didn't think. Just like your father. You little fool," she quacked.

"You want us to dispose of the little bird?" said one of Henna's ducks. The falcon looked up and also began to shriek with terror as another drake grabbed him by the neck and began to pull him towards the door.

"No, he knows too much. We will just have to train him, make him our own. He won't be able to go out except at night. We will make him a Brother, but we will train him harder. Push him more so as to ensure he never gets caught and leads the Puckpolice back to us," replied Henna.

"Yes ma'am", said the duck holding the falcon. He gruffly picked up the child and led him away to the kitchens. Henna, still holding a shocked Duke by his collar gently put him down.

"You listen here, Duke. I didn't take you in because you were your father's son. No, I expected more from you. I've taught you to have no mercy—to watch out for only yourself and the Brotherhood. You have betrayed our trust. Now, you will wear your shame," Henna hissed and stomped out of the room.

Duke, still in unbearable pain, curled up on the floor next to the window he had just scaled and slowly drifted into unconsciousness from the blood loss. He didn't notice one of Henna's henchmen gently pick him up off the floor and take him to the kitchens below. There, he laid Duke on a table, taking care to prop his head up with a soft pillow made from down. The duck started a hot fire in the boiler and found sharp knife, which he held over the flames. Skillfully and meticulously, he extracted what was left of Duke's eyeball, cauterizing the vein endings to stop the bleeding. Then, the sympathetic duck slowly began the gruesome task of sewing the young mallard's eyelid shut—forever.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Who can you trust?

When Duke awoke the next morning, he instinctually attempted to open both of his eyes. However, he yelped in agony when he felt the burning and tugging stiches holding his right eye shut. He stroked his eye longingly; remembering with dread what had occurred the night before. But instead of feeling his eye, he grazed over a cloth eye-patch held to his face by a string tied round his forehead.

Looking around the room, he realized he was on his cot and that all the young ducks around him were sound asleep—no doubt exhausted from a night's worth of thievery. He quietly began to sob as he settled back down in his cot and turned on his left side so tears wouldn't fall into his fresh stitches. As he lay down, with his one good eye, he noticed the young eyass wide awake in the cot next to him, starring up at him with wide and horrified eyes.

"What? What are you lookin' at, kid?" Duke whispered disgustedly. The falcon, as per usual, said nothing.

"You could at least say thank you. Apologize. Something! It's only good manners! They don't have manners where you come from?"

Still, it said nothing.

"Ah, the hell with you," Duke sighed. He gruffly turned on his back to stare at the ceiling in disgust.

"Perry," said the eyass.

"What?" Duke said, sitting up and turning sharply to look at the hatchling.

"My name is Perry," it said again.

"Oh! So you can speak! It's a miracle!" Duke mumbled sarcastically and pulled his cover over his head.

"I was scared," he whispered.

"Yeah, well, I guess Henna saw something in you and now you are one of us. You never know what she is going to do. I just don't know who to trust anymore," the disgruntled mallard replied, his voice muffled from the bed sheets.

"I'm sorry about your eye. Truly, I am. You can certainly trust me, old boy!" exclaimed Perry enthusiastically.

"Thanks, little guy. Honestly, I should have known better than to bring you here. I thought she would be happy I brought a new recruit. When my father was leader, he…well, he taught us that all were welcome in the Brotherhood." Duke peaked out from under his covers and looked at Perry.

"You found me when I was lost. That says a lot about you, old thing. Just think, one minute I was running from the Peregrine police for stealing a mouse at the market, and the next, I found my way here, to Puckworld and to you!"

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't stick with me. You're liable to get yourself killed," Duke said.

"Where is your papa?" the little falcon blurted.

"Oh, well, that's a pretty long story. As far as I know, he's hiding. He tripped up an alarm and almost led the Puckpolice back to our hideout, but instead, he led them away on a wild goose chase! We never found out if he was caught or in hiding. He just disappeared. Never said goodbye, nothing," Duke sighed into the early morning light.

"And Henna, she is the leader now?"

"You got it, baby. Mean as a mother hen," Duke smirked.

Both young fledglings laughed as silently as they could. Even Duke forgot his pain for a moment. He smiled and closed his eyes before they were scolded for talking during quiet hours.

In the years to come, Perry and Duke became fast friends—both ravens of the night, or, that's what they began to call themselves. Other ducks in the Brotherhood would walk the streets by day and report back to the duo the location of the best jewels and electronics. Perry, still only allowed to go out at night for fear that his peregrine features would give the Brotherhood away, stayed close to Duke and observed intently as the maturing mallard picked locks, scaled buildings, and learned to acrobatically weave his way through motion detecting lasers. In exchange for thieving lessons, Perry taught Duke how to use his other senses to make up for his lost sight. He showed him how to sniff the air and the wind to track individual ducks and how to tilt his head from side to side to listen for the most minuet movements. Yes, the Night Ravens were certainly the best burglars in the Brotherhood and pleased Henna very much.

As Duke and Perry began to take more and more of their share of the thieving, they bought themselves new gadgets—grappling hooks, blades, lock picks. Their skills intensified as their feathers molted into their adult pristine. Duke's soft grey down had shed into fully fledged, ashen-colored feathers, with the exception of a light band of silver that streaked through his hair. At first, Duke despised the unusual strip of hair that couldn't be dyed no matter how many times the vain duck tried. One day, however, Henna happened to peak in on Duke making up his hair in one of his outlandish dues.

"My my, Duke. You certainly look distinguished," she said in an oddly provocative tone. Duke chuckled and didn't pay her much mind.

"Yeah, well, I do what I can," he replied. As he stared at himself in the communal mirror hung in the young mallards' dormitory, he became more agitated. He picked up a comb and frantically preened his hair feathers. "I hate this hair!" he said more to himself than to the watchful Henna behind him.

"I like it. The grey makes you look distinguished—rather dashing. It's very unique," Henna said as she walked up to Duke and stood behind him. He looked up at her and saw her reflection in the mirror—her large, seemingly painted black eyes meeting with his good eye. Suddenly, he began to feel a bit uneasy.

"If you like it, Miss Henna, then it shall stay," he said, turning to face her and bowing theatrically before walking out of the room. He could feel Henna's sharp, gaze piercing into the back of his head as he walked away.

 _That was…odd,_ thought Duke. But he gave the awkward encounter no more thought as he prepared himself for a heist.

…..

Duke knew what he had to do in order to get to Falcone. He had to return to his roots—he had to be a thief, at least, on the outside. It was the only way to regain Falcone's trust and find out how and why he was stealing jewels on earth.

After a moment of rummaging through the back of his closet, he found his old marron and black camouflage suit. He slipped out of his Mighty Duck uniform slowly dawned his richly tailored outfit. He remembered how tightly it hugged his flesh, seeming to swaddle him and yet, it was fluid enough to allow for his most calculated acrobatic feats. Indeed, this outfit—this life—was meant for him. He could feel it's allure creeping back into is gizzard.

 _Stay calm, Duke. Don't get too carried away. This time, you are going to catch a thief. This time, you are on the other side of the law. This time, you won't let Falcone get the best of you. Now, let's go see what the other ducks think._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Things I didn't want to hear

Duke hurried himself down to Drake One, excited to reveal his plan about how he would gain Falcone's trust, dismantle his jewel-thieving devices, and maybe, just maybe, get a lead to Dragaunus's whereabouts. When he reached the mechanical doors guarding the super computer behind, he grabbed his key card and was just about to swipe in when he overheard his team talking from within. He decided to press his ear to the doors to listen.

"You haven't even given Duke the benefit of the doubt!" Wildwing said, his voice stern.

"Well, I'm sorry Wildwing, but he has been acting very suspiciously, lately," Malory retorted and huffed in that way she did when she was unnerved.

Duke signed and placed a hand on the doors to steady himself. He would never be able to convince them of his plan. Malory was right, he was acting suspiciously lately. If only he could tell them the truth and make them understand. With a deep breath, Duke swiped in to Drake One and stood tall as he paraded himself into the room.

"There is no reason to believe that Duke would ever return to a life of…crime?" Wildwing looked behind his shoulder to see Duke dressed in his old burglar's attire, adorned with all of his former accoutrements No doubt, he was confused, and rightfully so. Everyone in the room went silent as they watched Duke strut with pride to meet them. Innocent Nosedive was the first to break the awkward silence.

"Kind of over accessorized, aren't you there, buddy-boy?" he said, crossing his arms in protest of Duke's display.

"Those are burglar's tools," said Wildwing as he looked Duke over with concern.

"Nah, hunting tools," Duke replied.

"I'm beginning to see your plan, but I want Tanya and Nosedive to go with you…to help."

"No, you mean to make sure I don't steal anything!" Duke bellowed back. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, furious. _They will never trust me, no matter what I do or how well I do it,_ he thought as he allowed the mechanical doors to swoosh shut behind him.

"I didn't say that," Wildwing mumbled under his breath as he watched his friend leave alone.

…

Duke, Tanya, and Nosedive prepared themselves to leave in the Arrowing that night. As Duke pocketed some of his finer lock picks, small explosives, and of course, his beloved duck saber, he thought back on when it all began to go wrong between Falcone and him.

It had been nine years since Henna had brutally plucked out Duke's right eye for bringing to the mob's stronghold a young falcon. Yet, despite Duke's handicap, Duke continued to flourish in the mob-leading and planning many heists. He was even a member of the Council of Elders. Indeed, he was much respected and well loved in his jewel thieving community. Henna, particularity, kept Duke close to her confidence. She offered him the most difficult heists in exchange for a greater reward.

Perry, too, had grown into a fine young bird. His brown and beige plumage was very distinctive and Henna never missed a chance to compliment his dashing looks. He was sneaky, cunning, and idealistically charming-a fitting counterpart to Duke's finesse.

When the pair reached twenty years of age, both were awarded Duck Sabers, which they were promptly instructed on daily. Duke was a natural. His father had taught him some basic maneuvers when he was a fledgling. His grace and balance were unmatched, even as a beginner. Perry, on the other hand, struggled to find his technique. He was clumsy and often times blocked attacks instead of thrusting or going on any sort of offensive. But, regardless of Perry's slow learning curve, Duke never missed a day of practice with him. They would sword play in the courtyard long into the day, until the guards would tell them to quiet down so that the other ducks could sleep.

The Ravens of the Night had earned a small reputation in Puckworld...seemingly only black and swift shadows in a security camera if a camera was ever lucky enough to catch a glimpse of them.

Meanwhile, the mob grew richer off of Duke and Perry's hard work and Henna became a more and more powerful baroness. Nothing seemed out of her grasp, except-for what it seemed-control of Duke L'Orange. Duke had a small band of followers, both elders and chicks who would listen to his stories late at night about how the Brotherhood used to be run. He would offer advice, sneak food to the hungry newcomers, and of course, teach weaponry to those he deemed fit. Henna was all too aware of the threat he posed to the Brotherhood as a whole.

One evening, when Duke was walking out of the communal showers and heading back to the dormitory he shared with Perry, Henna was standing right outside of the door on his right so that he wouldn't be able to see her.

"Duke," she said suddenly, startling the half-blind mallard.

"Madam Henna!" Duke said, and turned sharply to look at her. "I didn't see you!" _But of course, you knew that,_ he thought.

"That's quite alright," she replied.

"How can I help you?" he asked.

"Oh, I was just wondering what you were doing this evening?" she said, innocently.

"Erm, actually, I was taking the evening off and was going to just relax."

"Yes, yes, of course. I was just hoping you might join me for dinner?"

"Henna, you've never been one to be soft on me. Why the change of heart now?" Duke asked cautiously.

"I just would enjoy the company, is all," she said timidly.

"Well, alright. Let me get dressed and I'll meet you in about...?"

"A half hour in my apartment," she said curtly and then walked away followed by two guards that seemed to have come out of no where.

Duke scratched his head in confusion as he pulled his towel up higher around his waist and walked back to his room. Perry wasn't there, so he couldn't unload his thoughts about his awkward run-in with Henna. Instead, he dressed himself slowly, purposefully bidding his time, hoping to make himself late. But, unfortunately, Duke primmed, groomed, and plucked himself effortlessly and had time to spare before he met Henna. He sighed heavily as he looked at the time on the wall clock and grudgingly picked himself up and walked towards Henna's apartment, secretly fearing what might be waiting behind her closed doors.

Henna's suite used to be he and Duke's father's apartment located within the mob's layer. This old, abandoned, three-story hospital made for a great hide-out. It was purposefully kept boarded up to make it appear as thought it was still abandoned. And whenever the Puck Police would come prying, one of the elders would offer them a small bribe or some other service in exchange for their silence.

But when Duke's father went missing, the once proud Brotherhood of the Blade became something of a child-slave ring. Henna would seek out and recruit young street ducks and offer them warm food, shelter, and a chance at a profit-filled life in exchange for small pick-pocketing jobs and eventually, (if they didn't get caught during the initiation process) training on large scale heists.

Duke had known the trade his whole life, but Henna never asked him to train on or help any of the other fledglings when his father disappeared-except, of course, for Perry, the outcast among the chicks. He knew, deep down, that she was afraid that he would influence the chicks to join "his side" and spread animosity towards Henna for having stolen his rightful place among the Brotherhood and for his eye. However, the opposite couldn't be more true. Duke had remained loyal to Henna, even throughout her most outlandish ventures. He spoke respectfully on her behalf and rallied up his best comrades to fulfill her most devious plans. When asked about why he harbored such loyalty towards the foul Henna, he simply said that he was a Brother first and an ally to Henna second.

As he meandered his way down the halls to Henna's suite, he wondered what she could possibly have to say to him. She had taken everything from him-she maybe even framed his father, though he would never say that out loud.

Slowly, he approached the two, slightly older ducks guarding the door to the apartment. He nodded and said, "Henna is expecting me."

They both looked him over in disgust, as if they didn't know who he was, but eventually, one of them turned and knocked on the door behind them. The door opened from within by another guard and Duke could hear Henna's soft voice say, "Let him in."

Duke mocked saluted the guards as he stepped between the pair and rolled his eyes. The apartment was as lavish and furnished as he remember it. There were colorful, exotic carpets lining the floor, plush furniture to lounge in, satin blue and purple curtains, and expensive oak tables adorned with priceless artifacts and expensive candied fruits and assorted meats.

Duke sighed. It had been many years since he had been here. His father would throw the most elaborate parties. There was music and laughter and absolute happiness. It was a good time to be alive.

"Do you like it?" Henna said from somewhere from within the interior of the apartment.

"Yes, I do. I remember it all very well," he replied, walking forward to try and find Henna.

"Come, Duke, in here!" she said. As Duke cautiously stepped on, he eyed the guard in the living room with reserve. Duke found Henna reclining in his old bedroom on a blue-velvet fainting couch. She wore sheer black lingerie and her legs were sprawled out provocatively. Her arms were high above her head as if bound by invisible tethers.

"Oh, Duke, you're finally here," she said, twisting her body seductively, the ruby drilled into her beak shining in the twilight like a drop of blood.

"Erm, yes, madam," he said questioningly.

"Have you ever been with a hen?" she asked, staring at him with her soulless, black eyes.

"No, madam Henna, I cannot say I have," he said as cautiously as he could, although his voice was cracking from embarrassment.

"Do you want this back? All of it?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Duke demanded.

"I could give this to you. My kingdom... _our_ Empire. It could all be yours again."

"It already rightfully belonged to me," Duke blurted out in rage. _What the hell is she doing? First she steals my honor, my rightful place in the Brotherhood, and now she thinks she can control me like this? The disgusting bird._

"What's stopping me from gathering what ever remains of the loyalty belonging to my father _and me,_ and raising it against you?" he snapped, knowing full well he was about to fall through some thin ice.

"Because, my young one, I have Perry tied away, somewhere you won't find him unless you give me what I want..."

Duke stared at her fearlessly, revealing no emotion or concern for his dear friend. He turned away from Henna and began to pace around the room dramatically and pretended to observe the fine antiques and jewels lining the room's shelving.

"And, sweetheart, what is it you want from me?" he said, making her talk to to his back.

"I want a chick," she said candidly.

"What!" Duke shrieked as he whirled around to face her.

"I want your chick. Just think of it, Duke. A chick between us would mend the bad blood within the Brotherhood."

"It's been there because of you! It's not my fault you do not know how to inspire loyalty within a mob. They fear you, they do not respect you!" Duke slammed back.

"Duke, calm yourself. They guard will force this on you if he has to, or you could suck up your pride, save your friend, and return to your former status. We all win," she commanded.

Duke turned away from Henna and thought for a moment, shaking from rage. "How do I know Perry is tied away? What if he is simply out?"

"Do you want to take that chance?" Henna jabbed, smiling deviously.

Duke sighed, placed a hand to the shelf in front of him to steady himself and finally said, "Fine, I'll do it."

"That's a good mallard."

Suddenly, the guard from within the living room, came up from behind Duke's right side. He grabbed Duke by the wrist and twisted his arm behind his back while another guard appeared from some hiding place and cut loose Duke's utility belt and snatched his duck saber.

"Wait, stop! I said I would do it!" Duke shouted. He tried to kick and bite at the guards with his sharp beak, but to no avail. The guard holding his wrist pushed him against the wall the took out some sheers and cut down the back of Duke's expensive outfit, leaving him naked and exposed. Then, they tore off the hanging shreds of clothes from his body and trust him towards Henna, who grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, pulling him towards her.

Duke, resisting as best he could, searched around the room for any possible route of escape, but before he could find his bearings, another feathered hand grabbed his scruff and forcefully tilted his head back. Then, came a hauntingly familiar voice that Duke never wanted to hear, "Come on, old boy, just give the lady what she wants and it will all be over soon." Almost choking from the strain on his neck, Duke couldn't sputter out a single word in protest. Instead, a pill was popped down his throat and his beak was held shut by two strong hands. Without comprehension, he swallowed it and immediately he began to drift in and out of consciousness. The room spun out of control as two dark shadows pinned him down on the couch while the vision in his left eye blurred. Breathing heavily, he heard one final, menacing threat, "Best to get the top bunk, old boy. Better view, from what I'm told."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The way home.

Duke awoke in a spiraled daze. He could remember voices, sounds, some shapes and colors, but he couldn't logically put together the chain of events that led him to waking up secured tightly to a hospital bed surrounded by three Puck Police. As is left eye blinked to life, he involuntarily made a motion to rub the sleep out of his eye, but instead, he was held fast by cuffs and IV tubing.

"Wha..what's...hap...happening?" he moaned in pain.

"Hey, there, take it easy son. You've had a rough night," said a calm, but stern voice.

"I...don't know...where I am," he stuttered, suddenly feeling chilled and violently dizzy.

"You are at Puck General Hospital. We found you lying in the middle of a busted up jewelry store completely passed out. You had a note attached to your crazy hair identifying you as Duke. I did a little detective work, but I cannot find who you might be on our Puck data base. So, what is your story?"

"Yeah...I'm Duke," he replied. Duke looked up at the duck speaking to him and noticed his detective clothes and a concealed gun tucked away in its holster. _Well, great. I'm going to jail._

"Can't imagine what you did to land yourself in this predicament," said the detective.

"I...I...didn't do anything wrong," Duke coughed out.

"No, you didn't. Two Night Ravens were caught on camera robbing the store and then, coming back to dump your naked body in the middle of it! We didn't manage to get their faces. Any idea who they might be from the Brotherhood?" _They could be anyone in the Brotherhood. As much as I'd like to say Henna and her goons, I won't give them away-not yet, anyways._

Duke shook his head no and the detective sighed in disappointment.

"Well, I'm detective Thunderbeak, but you can call me Flightfeather and if you want to talk, just let me know," he said, motioning for the officers to follow him out of the room. "We'll get you out of here as soon as we can. The doctor is coming to see you now." With that, the detective left along with the rest of his party and a doctor and a nurse flocked their way to his bedside.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Claw Mark. I'm just going to get right to the point. You've had multiple lacerations, some internal bleeding, a concussion, and, to put it mildly, we think you may have been taken advantage of," said the doctor with a look of deep concern embedded in his face.

"Yeah, I...think...I knew that," Duke replied, feeling the sharp pain swell between his legs.

"We are going to treat you to the best of our ability. We'll get you out of here soon," said Doctor Claw Mark.

"Thanks Doc, I...appre...appreciate that," Duke whispered and then fell fast asleep and for the first time in a long time, feeling safe to do so.

When Duke awoke again, there was a young mallard sitting by his bedside staring down at him. He couldn't have been much younger than Duke, but some of his feathers were still developing pin feathers.

"What do you want kid?" Duke said sharply.

"I'm Canard, detective Flightfeather's son," said the boy.

"Ah, I see. So he sends his son to pry information out of me so you can report back to him. I see the game," Duke said bluntly.

"Ha, yeah, you've got him figured, but in honesty, I'm just here to talk. I'm not going to report on you. You've been through enough," said Canard.

"Yeah, well, forgive me if I'm not going to tell you my life story."

"Don't really want to listen that long," Canard said with a smile.

"When can I get out of here?" Duke asked.

"Soon. Maybe one more day," he said.

"Good. I can't stand being chained up in here," Duke said, tugging on his cuffs attached to his bed. But then, he thought better, "Well, I guess I'm just going to be chained somewhere else, huh?"

"No, I don't think so. They're just running background checks and as far as I can tell, they can't find anything on you except that you are completely off of the system and they have no idea who you are. You are from Puck world, right?"

"Yeah…I am. I've just been an orphan for my whole life, alright? I live on the streets," Duke spat.

"I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you?" Canard said, putting his hands between his legs nervously. Duke looked at the young mallard and felt sorry he had snapped at him.

"Hey, kid. I'm not exactly in the mood to talk about it right now," he said.

"Oh, yeah, sure. Maybe some other time," Canard responded politely.

"Yeah, maybe."

...

The next day, detective Flightfeather and his son, Canard, came with two other officers to initiate Duke's release. They brought him clean clothes, some money, and offered him, most surprisingly, a place to stay at their home until he could get back on his feet.

"I...I don't know what to say," Duke said as the cuffs were removed from his wrists and ankles and he was slowly lifted from the bed to stand for the first time in two days.

"Say yes. The lady hen of the house would love to have you," said Flightfeather. Duke cringed at the thought of another hen, but nodded in agreement. Canard smiled up at his father and then rushed over to help his new roommate to get dressed and ready for discharge.

As they trio walked out of the hospital room, there was a hushed murmur that befell the hospital corridor as doctors, nurses, and patients alike watched the mysterious Duke hobbling on Canard for support. Canard took no mind of the awkward stares and held fast to his new friend. Duke could feel the confidence in this young mallard and deep down, admitted that he would have made a fine Brother.

On the drive home, Duke marveled out the car window at the middle class neighborhood houses in the suburbs; realizing that he had never set foot outside of the inner city. The yards were green, each house was painted a conservative shade of beige, and each one had a giant pond for swimming. Some were even filled with fish!

 _I could get used to this,_ he thought.

When they arrived at the Thunderbeaks' house, the misses, a plump white hen, came running out of the front door to greet them. She gave each a hug and a kiss, and when she came to Duke, she looked him over with a sharp eye. Duke began to feel that coming here was a bad idea, but suddenly, she smiled and gave Duke a gentle and warm embrace.

"Welcome! You are most welcome here!" she said.

"Thank you, ma'am," replied Duke.

"So polite, even for a city duck. Feathers, I do think I like this one!"

"Yes, mama, he certainly is a charmer," said "Feathers."

Duke looked at Canard who smiled back innocently.

"You're going to have to meet my neighbors, the Wings. They know how to play some mean street hockey. Oh, wait, you do play hockey, right?" asked Canard.

"Do I play hockey? Kid, I've been playing street hockey since I opened my eyes for the first time!" Duke replied haughtily.

"Great! Da, can we go play with the Wings?"

"Sure, Canard, just be home for dinner at a reasonable time," he said, taking his wife's hand and walking her back to the house.

Duke followed Canard across the street and up the porch to his neighbor's house. Canard smiled and rang the doorbell to the house. Bangs and screams could be heard from the house's interior and a motherly voice yelling, "Don't be out too late! You have school tomorrow!" Duke looked at Canard with a wide-eyed expression but Canard just shrugged his shoulders and laughed. Finally, a small, pale, and gangly duckling threw open the door. He was panting and holding a hockey stick.

"Hi!" it said. "Oh, you have a new friend, Canard!"

"Yeah, Nosedive. This is Duke. Is your brother around?" asked Canard calmly.

"You know it! Wildwing!" the little mallard screamed from the doorway.

Another duck, about the same age as Canard, came running to the door, his hands gripping two hockey pucks, a helmet, his hockey stick, and some worn skates.

"Hiya, Canard! Ready to play?" asked Wildwing.

"You know it!" replied Canard.

"Can I play? Please please pleeeassse?" whined Nosedive.

"Hey, little bro, we play pretty rough. Maybe when you are older," said Wildwing gently.

"Awww man!" said Nosedive disappointingly.

"One day, little guy, they won't be able to pull you off the ice. You'll be making all the shots!" said Canard as he tussled the little duck's downy head. "Come on, let's go."

Wildwing walked out into the night air and closed the door behind him, smiling at his friend Canard, then looking suspiciously at Duke. Duke awkwardly smiled back.

"Wildwing, this is Duke. He's going to be living with my family for a while," explained Canard.

"Oh, well, pleased to meet you," Wildwing said cordially, but with a hint of resentment hidden in his voice.

"Like-wise," replied Duke, extending his hand for a handshake. Wildwing stared up at him in annoyance and ignored his offer for friendship. Instead, he turned and walked next to Canard as they made their way to the street to set up their pretend hockey arena. Duke simply rolled his eyes and followed closely.

Until sundown, the trio played hockey, laughing and sharing in the thrill of the sport. Duke proved a little out of practice, but he was still able to best Wildwing a few times. It felt good to take out his aggression within the confines of a sport. In the mob, his aggression was either pent up all day long, or he used it to fuel his late night raids. Finally, when Misses Thunderbeak called Canard and Duke in for dinner, the three picked up their sticks and turned for their homes. Wildwing, however, called after Canard and asked to speak with him privately. Duke slowly walked away to the house put used his keen listening skills to hone in on their conversation.

"Canard, he's a bit old, isn't he?" asked Wildwing.

"Well, yeah, but he's been through a lot and needs some help getting on his feet. He's also not bad with a stick. We could use him on our team!" replied Canard enthusiastically.

"Buddy, I know you always see the good in everyone, but there is something off about him. Just be careful, okay?" he said earnestly.

"I will, brother. You know it. Laters, my man." Canard ran after Duke and smiled as if nothing had just transpired between and Wildwing and him. "Man, I'm starving! Let's grab some grub!"

"Yeah, me too. I could eat a whole feast!" Duke shouted in the street, raising his hockey stick as one might a sword. He was being overly theatrical to try to hide his agitation with Wildwing and what was said about him. It seemed to be working because Misses Thunderbeak and Canard didn't seem to suspect that he was very uncomfortable at their house. He put on his best show, just as he always had, but he knew that later that night, he would have to leave. He had to find Henna and Perry and seek revenge. When the Brotherhood found out he wasn't in jail, he would surely be tracked and likely killed.

 _I'm not about to put this beautiful family in danger,_ he thought to himself at the dinner table.

That night, while Duke lay on the guest bed gazing at the ceiling, listening to ensure the whole household was asleep, he thought about his father. Was he even alive? Did he miss Duke as Mr. Thunderbeak would have missed Canard? He sighed deeply, listening to the mister and misses chat in their bed above. Finally, he heard snoring from above. He slowly crept out of his bed, pulled on his boots and grabbed a long, black trench coat from the guest bedroom closet. He had purposefully left the bedroom window open so that it would make less noise when he decided to crawl out of it. Slowly, into the night he slithered out like the thief he never wanted to be. As he crashed into some bushes below, he held quiet for a moment, making sure no one heard. Then, suddenly, he sensed someone approaching from around the back of the house. He crouched down, shielding himself from the moonlight.

"Duke!" someone whispered. "Duke! I know you are leaving!" It was Canard!

"Canard! Over here!" whispered Duke in reply.

Canard came around the corner of the house and stared at Duke standing in the bushes.

"I'm…I'm sorry. But I have to go. I have to do something," said Duke, sadly.

"I know, buddy. Here, take this money and food. Go get Henna."

"What? You know of Henna?" Duke said in surprise.

"I..I…read my dad's personnel profiles sometimes. It's a weird hobby I have. I guess I always think I'll run across them or need the information one day. Anyways, I know she is the head of your Brotherhood. She stole your rightful place."

"You, you know I'm Duke l'Orange?" sputtered the grey drake.

"Well, yeah. I guess I do. I just kind-of put it all together. The stories about your father and the prince of the Brotherhood of the Blade have always captivated me. You are the prince!" Canard exclaimed a bit louder than he should have. Canard then became serious and lowered his voice, "But don't worry, I haven't told my da. And I don't plan to."

"Do you know of where my father is?" Duke frantically grabbed Canards shoulders.

"Your dad died a long time ago trying to escape Puckworld," Canard replied looking deeply into Duke's eyes. "He stole a ship and Henna tipped off the Puck Police. Together, they blasted it out of the sky. I'm sorry Duke, I thought you knew."

"No, no one knew. And of course, Henna wouldn't tell me. She always pleaded dumb."

"You've got to go. Leave now. Good luck, my friend. I will see you again, brother."

"Yeah, sure. Good luck to you, too," Duke whispered and he turned and ran into the night.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: A new brotherhood

As Duke quietly wondered the dark suburban streets, following the towering glow of Puck City in the distance, he began to regret his decision to leave Canard.

Canard was the only real friend Duke had at the moment. Perry, Henna, and the entire Brotherhood had betrayed him. They no longer knew what it meant to be a Brother. Respect, fealty, and autonomy of thought—all these things defined a Brother and made him an integral member of the mob.

But Henna—damned Henna—had corrupted the Brothers' vison. She had brought in more hatchlings, defenseless children, to mold, corrupt, and employ into _her_ service. She truly was the most dangerous and powerful mobster on Puckworld, and now that Duke was out of the picture, there was nothing holding her back from absolute control over her dominion and anyone else's that might stand in her way. She had to be stopped.

 _But how?_ thought Duke. _I can't just go barging into the secret layer, wielding whatever weapons I can find. I'm just one Duck._

Suddenly, Duke stopped in the street and ran back towards the Thunderbeaks'. He stood in front of Canard's bedroom window and looked for a quiet way to scale the house and tap on his window. However, before Duke could start his decent, he looked up and saw the light turn on in Canard's room. Canard quietly opened his window and looked down at the grey duck.

"I knew you'd be back!" he whispered from above.

"Come with me! I need your skills and your knowledge of the Puck underworld. I need your…brotherhood," Duke trailed off.

"I thought you'd never ask!" replied Canard. C

He shimmied down the side of the house with some acrobatic ease and pounced as softly to the ground as an owl. He had a backpack strapped tightly around him and dark clothes to help camouflage his snow white feathers in the night.

"We are a team now," said Canard softly. Duke extended his hand for a handshake, and unlike Wildwing, Canard gratefully accepted.

They ran off for Puck City, unsure of what they might encounter ahead of them, but each indebted for the other's bravery and companionship.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Liam

…

"San Francisco, home to the largest jewels in the world. That's where we are going," said Duke to Tonya and Nosedive as they flew over the coastline of California in the Arrowing.

"I don't know Duke. Are you sure you know where Falcone will strike next?" asked Nosedive.

"Yeah, there's a pattern to these robberies. He's going after the world's biggest jewels, and the biggest diamond is in Frisco," replied Duke.

"And you know this how?" chimed Tonya.

"Hey, I gave up thievery. I didn't say I gave up my love for priceless jewels," answered Duke as casually as he could, trying not to let Tonya's accusatory question derail his focus on the mission ahead.

Within less than an hour, the trio landed at the Pacific Museum. Duke knew he had to escape the presence of his comrades as fast as he could. If Falcone saw him with Tonya and Nosedive, he would certainly not believe that he was a rouge duck.

Duke approached the side door of the museum first and noted the lock was picked and it was slightly ajar.

"Hmm…Falcone's already here," he said scratching his chin. The dark grey duck ran into the museum, remembering from the blueprints he studied how to hide in the nearest air duct. Within a flash, Duke was in the walls, overlooking a confused Tonya and Nosedive.

"Duke?" Tonya asked tentatively. "Duke?"

"That's strange, I thought I saw him just a minute ago," Nosedive comedically answered.

"Sorry, guys. I just have to do this alone," Duke whispered to himself from the air duct. Suddenly, Duke heard a familiar ruffling of feathers coming from the shadows of the museum floor.

"Ah, fellow art lovers!" exclaimed a devious voice.

"It's Falcone!" cried Tonya worriedly. Duke watched intently, ensuring that his friends would not get hurt by their encounter with the falcon.

"How quaint, you must be from the Audubon society," he chuckled as he drew his saber and forced Tonya and Nosedive into a back room vault.

Duke marveled at how mature Falcone had become. He was taller than the average duck, with broad shoulders and a toned and muscular physique. His beak was polished and sharpened to a deadly point and he wore a velvet red cape to accentuate his pristine brown feathers. He did, indeed, look formidable.

The bird of prey lifted his sword and with one swift stroke downwards, he destroyed the Puck blasters aimed at him by Tonya and Nosedive. Nosedive stared up at Falcone with not a hint of fear in his eyes. Duke was proud of the young mallard. He was starting to take after Wildwing—facing his advisories with not an ounce of panic.

"Your communicators, if you please," Falcone said nonchalantly as he held out his hand.

Tonya and Nosedive obeyed as the door to the air-tight vault closed on them. Duke felt his heart sink with guilt, but he knew that Tonya would be able to get them out. She still had the Omni-tool on her, after all. It was now Duke's turn to strike back.

Falcone slowly lifted the priceless diamond off of its display pillow and deviously smiled. As he raised the rock to his eyes to examine it, a puck blasted out of seemingly nowhere and shattered the stone. Falcone gasped to find Duke standing across the room reeling in his puck shooter.

"Still can't tell the difference between glass and the real thing, huh Falcone?" Duke snickered.

"Duke! Old boy, what a surprise!" replied Falcone, clearly unnerved. "I thought you would be with those do-gooder ducks of yours!"

"Nah, they are driving me crazy. I'm done with those birds!" exclaimed Duke as he held up the real diamond to Falcone.

"Ah, well, I work alone now, old boy. You know how it is—better insurance that way."

"Not from what I've seen! You work for Dragaunus! I want in!" replied Duke, drawing his duck saber and placing the jewel in a safe side pocket on his utility belt. Falcone reciprocated and drew his electric saber. The two lunged and clashed swords. Each one charging and repelling with grace and ease.

 _Falcone has gotten good, but I've held the Star Sword. I can wield anything!_

Duke leaped again and this time, Falcone didn't anticipate. He tried to parry, but tripped on his red cape and fell backwards.

"All right, all right old boy! Let's cut a deal," Falcone wheezed from the ground as he held his hands up in defeat. "You can be in, but I want that diamond back."

"Uh, ah, not before you tell me what this is all about," replied Duke, pointing his saber at Falcone's neck and kicking away his electric saber.

"Don't worry, I'll fill you in," the falcon said calmly as he took his finger and pointed Duke's blade away from his throat to stand. "Come on, my ship is one the roof."

Falcone walked ahead of Duke confidently. Duke wondered who was conning whom and got an uneasy feeling in his stomach. As he sat in the passenger seat of what was clearly a barrowed ship from Dragaunus, he felt the need to hurl questions at Falcone but he held his tongue an allowed his old friend to speak first.

Once Falcone and Duke were safely in the air and Falcone engaged the autopilot, he turned his captain's chair to face Duke.

"Well, old boy, I am certainly shocked to see you alive. I thought that botched heist left you high and dry in a prison cell. Surely, Dragaunus would have sold you into slavery," Falcone jeered.

"You really don't know me, do you?" Duke sharply replied, crossing his arms as he sat.

"Old chap, it doesn't matter now. I've been working for the dragons ever since the raid ceased over Puckworld. I took back the Brotherhood and helped secure their place beside our new rulers. We provided intel, strong hands, and slaves…"

Before Falcone could finish, Duke leaped from his chair and grabbed Falcone's collar. He pulled him close and stared at him with an unforgiving dark eye and a red, beady mechanical pupil.

"What slaves, Falcone! What slaves!" he spat hysterically.

"Easy, old chap. Liam was long dead before the slave trading began. No one was spared from those first days of the barrage. There's nothing anyone could do except wait out the bombing…"Falcone trailed off as Duke lost his ability to stand and collapsed back into his chair, speechless and truly numb with disillusionment. "I'm sorry, old boy. Truly I am."

 _My God, it's true. Liam is in the dark zone. My poor child. I truly have failed him. I must be strong for you, little Liam. I mean to destroy this hawk of horror._

"How did he die?" Duke asked with a sudden resolve.

"We were huddled in the basement of the layer when part of it collapsed from the bombing. I shielded him, honestly, I did. But the weight, the days of stale air after wards…we were all trapped next to our dying brothers. I loved that little chick. He was so much like you, sweet thing. I loved him like he was my own…"

Suddenly, Duke leaped out of his chair again, ignited his saber, and pointed it directly at Falcone.

"I should have been there! He was my son, not yours. Not Henna's. He was mine! You took my thrown. You tipped off the Puck Police. You! You betrayed everyone!" Duke was frantic, now.

"Easy, old friend. Only the strong rule in the Brotherhood," Falcone easily replied.

"No, Falcone, the Brotherhood was run by loyalty, fealty, respect… _brotherhood_!" Duke placed the tip of his blade as close to the falcon's sleek throat as he could without cutting it. However, Duke found that he was shaking—for the first time in his life, he was unbalanced. This was not a ruse. Falcone peered down at the trembling sword and smiled confidently.

"My friend, it is over. The strong crush the weak, the cunning outwit the fools. Accept this and follow me to riches beyond your wildest dreams in the Brotherhood. We could go home using Dragaunus's dimensional transporter. You can be restored to the Brotherhood. What do you say?" Duke stared at Falcone long and intently before he sighed deeply in shame, dropping his sword at his side. "There's a good lad. It will be just like the old days." Falcone stood from his chair and placed a hand on Duke's shoulder. Solemnly, Falcone declared, "We do this for Liam. For his memory."

Duke looked up at Falcone, his expression distant and pathetic, which was exactly the show of humility he knew would seal his charade. Except that, it wasn't entirely a ruse. Duke truly was shocked and devastated by the final loss of his son. His little chick, the light of his life. The chick he never knew he wanted until he held him in his arms for the first time, only a few years ago.

Duke looked down at his saber, still ignited and flaring with electricity. Then, the held it up between them, pointing the tip to the ceiling of the cabin. "I still don't trust you, but for Liam and the Brotherhood, I pledge my loyalty to you and to this mission." It was the first pledge Duke had ever intended to break.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Alliances

…

When Canard and Duke finally reached Puck City, it was daylight. Detective Thunderbeak would have all of his troops after the duo by now. Soon, Duke would be known as a chick-napper; his face on wanted posters for the first time in his life.

"What now, Duke?" Canard said as they slowly walked toward the poverty-stricken side of the city. An arrowtram rumbled above them, dropping bits of debris into the coffees they had bought at a local bakery—one known to have no cameras or affiliations with the Brotherhood.

"We need to find weapons, maybe even allies within the mob," Duke replied sleepily.

"I could be your liaison. You could point someone out to me and…"

"Kid, no offense, but you are the chief detective's chick. I'm not willing to risk your identity or safety if I don't have to," Duke interjected.

"Then why did you ask me to come?"

Duke whipped a long piece of hair out of his face and good eye before he realized that his feathers were still their long, distinctive color and length.

"I need to get rid of this hair!" he said.

"You wear an eyepatch. You really think your hair is going to give you away?" Canard replied sarcastically, taking a sip of his warm coffee.

"Ha, ha. I guess you are right, kid. We are both handsome ducks. We need someone trust worthy—on the inside. Someone no one would expect," Duke said, scratching his chin methodically.

"How about me, old chum?" came a very familiar voice from down a dark alley.

"Perry!" Duke said in disgust as he instinctively stood in front of Canard to shield him.

"Easy, old boy. I didn't come here to fight you or turn you over," Perry replied, still hiding in the shadow of the alleyway.

"Humpf, still lurking in the dark, huh there? Even after what you did, she still won't let you play in the sun?" Duke taunted. Perry's expression went from one of poise to that of snubbed. He ruffled his feathers and stepped confidently into the morning light.

"It's Falcone, now," he proclaimed, touching the saber attached to his belt.

"Falcone, huh? Well, whatever you are now, just tell us what you want and I might not wring your neck," Duke threated.

" _Pa-lease_ , Duke, in broad daylight?" he chuckled. "Besides, I am now the second in command of the Brotherhood. My brothers would come looking for me, just as I have come to you, my brother," Falcone said innocently.

"Oh, yeah? What about you holding me down, drugging me, and violating me? Leaving me for the Puck Police? Some _brother_ you are!" Duke said, stretching out his arm to hold back Canard protectively.

"I knew they wouldn't cage you. I was the one that arranged your… _disposal_. I made sure you would come back. And now you have! Such a strong duck you are. Duke, you are the true heir to the Brotherhood. Everyone knows this and so do I."

"I still don't trust you," Duke hissed.

"Let me put it this way, do you have other options?"

Duke looked back at Canard and Canard only shrugged in response.

"Alright, Perry…"

"Falcone," interrupted the peregrine.

"Alright _Falcone,_ we'll go with you."

The falcon led the two young mallards to a small corner bar in a district controlled by the Brotherhood of the Claw. Duke knew the area to be out of bounds for not only him, but also the rest of his Brotherhood. He wondered if anyone would recognize him. When they entered the bar, Duke and Canard witnessed all manner of low life: drunken, sniveling, and disheveled birds. There was even a rare female parrot with a full red tail exposed under a short dress to excite and serve the meandering cocks.

"Now, now, old boy, don't judge these birds too harshly. They belong to a brotherhood just as we do, except that they are not keen on Henna's power within the Blade. They are willing to follow the rightful heir to the Blade if only to see Henna's reign end."

"Hmmm…you don't say," Duke muttered. "How do I know they wouldn't overthrow any opposing leader's reign?"

"Duke," Canard said with a slight hint of fear in his voice, "Falcone is telling the truth. Henna has been slowly encroaching on the Claw's territory and she even tips off the Puck Police to their whereabouts. She fights dirty. She has sent some of them to prison by arranging heists only to have the Puck Police sting the Claws on her command."

"I guess I didn't know how powerful she was…or is becoming. I knew she could influence the police, but to what extent, I was never sure," Duke whispered in reply.

"Ah, Leatherbeak! Wingstrap! So good to finally meet you in person, old boys," exclaimed Falcone suddenly as he walked up to two weathered and fierce looking ducks.

"It's Henna's falcon-boy," said the duck with a piece of leather wrapped tightly around his upper beak.

"Puh, he's no more than a child," replied what must have been Wingstrap.

"Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Duke L'Orange, the only heir of Dukard L'Orange," Falcone announced gesturing toward Duke. Duke strode up to the two ducks, trying not to let on that he was secretly frightened of the seasoned crime lords.

"The Prince! _My gods_ , I never thought I would see the day!" exclaimed Wingstrap.

"Sirs, I am here to broker a treaty," said Duke, trying to sound as assertive as he could.

"Little Prince, our services are at your disposal. We want Henna dethroned. We want the mutual respect and fair play between our Brotherhoods that was once so sacred under your father's rule. We will help you restore what is yours," said Leatherbeak. Wingstrap nodded in approval as his companion spoke.

Duke bowed deeply with respect then looked at Canard. Canard smiled and turned to walk out of the bar with Duke following.

"Gentlemen," Falcone also bowed slightly to the leaders and then turned to trail the young mallards out into the midday sun.

Later that evening, Duke and Canard found themselves sharing a comfortable dormitory with a bunk in the layer of the Brotherhood of the Claw. Leatherbeak graciously allowed them to stay, partake in a hot meal with the Council of Elders, and discuss strategy with the heads of the bands.

"Duke?" Canard asked from the bottom bunk.

"Yeah, kid?"

"Do you think I'll get into trouble for helping you?"

"Nah, I plan to tie you up, gag you, and leave you in a back alley where the police can find you when this is all through," Duke said with a jeer.

"What!?" Canard shrieked, springing from his bed in horror.

"Don't worry. It will be the perfect guise. I'll just tie a note to you saying I no longer require you as my hostage. No one will ever been the wiser, except for you."

"But, you'll be a wanted duck," Canard said meekly.

"After I am restored as leader, I'll be a wanted duck no matter what."

Canard sighed deeply, "I wish it didn't have to end like that."

"Me neither, kid. But, hey, this might be _your_ adventure of a lifetime! Something to tell your kids about!"

"Yeah, sure Duke."

"Goodnight, kid."

"Goodnight, Duke."

Duke couldn't sleep that night. Though he felt among brothers, he still didn't trust the Claw or Falcone's arrangements. He feared for the young Canard and silently vowed to keep the kid safe no matter the costs to himself. As he laid awake late into the night, he thought about his father, his childhood, and about the love he once felt for Perry. He truly treated the young eyass like a _true_ brother. How wrong he had been.

 _That bird has only formed an alliance with me because he found out about the Claw's hatred for Henna. He knows, one way or another, Henna's reign is about to end. I'm sure as fast as a wing can flap, that disgusting peregrine will betray me again._


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Caught up

….

Duke and Falcone landed in a forest a few miles away from the castle that housed the Sapphire of Fredonia. As they quietly traversed through the forest, Duke made sure to be wary of Falcone's proximity to him at all times. Once they arrived at the base of the high stone walls of the medieval castle, both Falcone and Duke fired their wrist grappling hooks up to the parapets and effortlessly scaled the ramparts. They quietly ran over to the east wall, looking below to see two guards in traditional red uniform defending the gates to the sapphire room.

"Where there are guards, there is loot!" Duke mused to Falcone quietly. He took no time in jumping upon the first guard from the top of the ramparts while Falcone disengaged the second guard. Falcone picked the lock to the Sapphire room while Duke tied and gaged the two guards up and dragged them inside of the room. Once inside, Falcone confidently strode over to the safe in the middle of the room and began to open it. Duke took a guard's chair and pulled it close so he could sit down.

"Well, when you need me to open it, just let me know!" he said sarcastically.

"Let an _art-tist_ show you how it's done," Falcone sneered. As he struggled with the safe's lock, Duke took out a toothpick from his satchel and placed it in his beak, twirling it around in his mouth patiently watching. Finally, Falcone's persistence wore thin and he began to panic as the safe would not open.

"Junk! How can I practice my art with inferior materials?" Falcone took out his electric saber and was about to ignite it and slash at the safe, but Duke grabbed Falcone by the wrist and held tight.

"Are you crazy? You'll set off every alarm in the nation!" Duke whispered with frustration.

"Well, if you think you can do it…" Falcone said.

Duke waltzed up to the safe and began to finger the dial on the combination lock and within a few seconds, click! It opened effortlessly.

"Well, I got it started for you, old boy!" Falcone said under his breath as he reached into the safe. He pulled out a small model of the clock tower in the west wing of the castle. "What is this junk?!" Falcone exclaimed. He went to throw it across the room, but again, Duke grabbed Falcone's wrist and took the model.

"It's a key, you dolt! Look, here's the clock tower and on the left and right are the sun and moon. So, the sapphire is up in the tower and the safe up there can only be opened at noon and midnight! Let's go!"

But before Duke could understand what was happening, Falcone raised his blaster and shot into the safe. The alarms immediately triggered and began blaring throughout the room.

"Sorry old boy, but business is business." Falcone shot up at an old chain chandelier and blasted its fastenings from the ceiling. It came crashing down on Duke and ensnared him in heavy chains and metal.

"You!" Duke shouted in pain as he lay on the ground.

"Yes, me! Always me! Better get the top bunk, old boy. Better view from what I am told!" Falcone ran out of the room with the key and left Duke crumpled on the ground. When he looked up, rage searing through his body, he saw two more guards in red run into the room.

"Looks like we caught a thief!" one of the guards said in a formal British accent.

 _I am doomed._


End file.
